


A Special Request

by Almost_Star_Struck



Category: BioShock
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Gen, M/M, Mind Control, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Video Cameras, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almost_Star_Struck/pseuds/Almost_Star_Struck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlas asks Jack for a show.</p><p>Not Betaed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Special Request

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this like 4 years ago for DA and then Y!Gal.

Jack rarely questioned Atlas' orders. The other man had been leading a strong rebellion against the forces of Andrew Ryan for years and his advice had saved Jack's life countless times so far, not to mention all the times the other man had intervened by sending in bots, scrambling Ryan's codes, etc. There had never been a reason to not trust the man's judgment.  
  
"Can you see me?" Jack asked, tapping the slightly cracked lens of the security camera, seeing the light glow a brilliant green. Atlas chuckled on the other end of the radio and Jack smiled warmly to the camera, wiping a bit at the blood that caked the side of his face. "I'll take that as a yes...so why did you want the Eve's Garden camera?" He stood back and looked around the locked strip bar which was trashed, but devoid of crazy splicers and their inane rambling as he had barricaded all the doors with crates and chairs.   
  
The radio crackled to life, "t's all part of the plan, boyo." Atlas cleared his throat and said, "Jack... **would you kindly**  go inta tha' backroom and dig through the closet fer clothes. Whatever...sparks your interest will do." Jack blinked, but nodded. What did they need clothes for? There was no point in trying to disguise himself down here as the splicers attacked each other just as much as they attacked him. No one was safe in Rapture.   
  
Pulling himself onto the creaking planks of the stage, he obediently walked into the back room. He frowned, touching a bloodied sploch on the wall. When he had finished off the last of Cohen's men, he remembered seeing more ghosts, a woman screaming and begging Ryan not to kill her, something about Fontaine-  
  
Before his mind could linger on the subject any more, his hands touched the dresser drawers, fiddling with the cracked and rusted hinge for a moment. When he opened it, his eyes flickered over neatly folded women's lingerie in various shades of red. Without thinking, his hands went through them, picking through the most appealing pieces: black stockings with garters, red panties with a matching dress that seemed to flair out in the back and shimmered in the dull light of the room. He glanced back to the rotten corpse on the bed and frowned. It didn't seem right to go through her personal possessions. Even if she was a stripper. It was one thing to steal food and ammunition, but-  
  
"Got the clothes, boyo?"  
  
Jack blinked and then stood with his selections, "Yeah, I got it all. So what do we need these for again?" he asked, staring at the radio that he had hooked onto his belt. There was static for just a moment, as if Atlas had pressed the call button, but hadn't thought of what he wanted to say yet. "Atlas?"  
  
"Change inta them,  **would you kindly?** "   
  
Jack froze for a second. "Atlas? Why?" he said, even as he put the clothes on the floor and he tugged off his blood-stained sweater, tossing it over the cracked wood of the dresser, knocking over several bottles of Arcadia Merlot in the process.   
  
Atlas chuckled, "Come on, boyo...I know more than' you think. You want me, don' you?" Jack felt his cheeks heat up as he slid his jeans to the floor along with his boxers. He was fully exposed now, his wounds and muscles shadowed in the dim light, making them all the more defined. "Don' cha want ta please me, boyo?" Jack's chest clenched as he pulled the tight red underwear up his thick thighs. They were much to small, but there wasn't much to be done about that. His dick barely fit inside, making an obscene bulge in the front of the silky material. It clung to his ass something horrible.   
  
"I...." was all he could say as he tugged the stockings over his feet. They ripped in several places, made for the smooth curves of a stripper rather than the burly muscle that was sliding into them now, but the garters reached and he was able to buckle them on easily enough. He looked down at himself and swallowed. Would this really please Atlas? "I look stupid..."  
  
"Oh I doubt tha'..." Atlas said, his voice coming out of the radio slightly huskier than usual. The Irish man couldn't see him as there were no cameras in the room, but he could probably hear him struggling to put on the clothes. Jack's blush darkened and he swallowed, looking at the strapless red dress that would never fit him. His chest was too broad for it to work. "Atlas, none of these....they won't fit."   
  
Nevertheless, Jack found himself picking it up and sliding it over his head. As predicted, it got stuck at his shoulders and he heard a few tears before it finally slid down, cinching slightly at his waist. The back of it would never zip up, but it was so tight around Jack's torso that there was no danger in it sliding down, not that it would matter. Jack walked to the mirror place against the wall and swallowed hard. Everything was far too tight and his muscles bulged out between the pieces. The panties were the worse though, so tight up against his crotch that it was almost painful.   
  
"You done in there?" He heard Atlas call from the radio on the floor. Jack sighed and walked over to it, picking it up and hearing the stockings give another tear from him bending over. "Good...now why don' you go ta tha' stage. I want ta see you,  _Jack_ ," that husky Irish accent murmured and Jack felt his heart skip a beat. Atlas had saved him so many times and the man had been the only comfort he had been allowed in Rapture. The man had done all of this for him even after Jack had failed to save his family down in the submarine bay.   
  
"Al...Alright."   
  
Slowly, Jack leaned against the smoke-stained wallpaper for a moment and then grabbed a half empty vodka bottle off the floor, draining it before he walked out of the room and onto the stage. The spotlight illuminated everything for the security camera overhead and Jack averted his eyes, gripping the radio tightly in his hands. There was a pleased sigh and he heard rustling through the crackling radio. "You look lovely, Jack..." Atlas breathed, making Jack all the more embarrassed.   
  
"Can I take it off now?"  
  
Atlas laughed, his voice still breathy and hot. "Won' you give me a show firs', boyo? Somethin' to keep me going until we can regroup afta Ryan's dead? I'll give you somethin' special in return,  _promise_." Jack shivered at the implication, bumps rising over his exposed skin as he raised his head to look at the camera. Atlas...  
  
Slowly, Jack put down the radio on the edge of the small stage. He turned to look at the pole and he gritted his teeth behind his lips. He had never done anything like this before. What the hell was he supposed to do? Exhaling, Jack touched his hand to the pole, gripping the worn metal tightly in his hand. Strippers...ok, they grinded down the poles, right? Jack pressed his groin to the cool pole and then slowly lowered his hips up and down, occasionally thrusting up against it. He heard Atlas chuckle and Jack turned his head away from the camera. "Oh, don' be like tha', Jack. I like it."   
  
"I don't know what I'm doing..."  
  
"And I like that. Makes me want ta teach you a few thin's. Move your hips a bi' more...tha's it..."   
  
Jack's heart beat rapidly in his chest and he rotated his hips around the pole, his dick occasionally brushing against the cold metal. The panties were hardly a barrier at all and every brush made him shiver. "Keep goin'...now stick out tha' arse, **would you kindly?** " Jack's brown eyes widened as he moved around the pole so that his back was facing the camera. As he moved down the metal, he pressed his groin to the pole, arching his back to give the camera a better look at his panty-clad ass. "Fuck, boyo..." he heard Atlas pant, "Wish I wuz there...would smack tha' fat arse of yours until you  _cried_."   
  
Trying to ignore the mental images that came with Atlas' lewd description, Jack found his dick twitching inside the panties. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to grind up more against the pole. "Jus' let go, boyo..." Jack exhaled and found himself sweating as he moved around the pole, his hands gripping the now heated metal as he slid up and down it, letting his body just work the way it wanted to.   
  
More pants issued from the radio and Jack began to mirror the sounds, his groin throbbing. "Atlas..." he breathed, his brown eyes half-lidded as they stared at the camera. The man who had been his best friend down in this hell hole was watching him, probably touching himself as he thought of Jack. "God, Atlas..."   
  
He closed his eyes and the Irishman murmured, "Say it again, Jack."  
  
"Atlas!" Jack groaned loudly as he rubbed his cock against the pole, his knuckles white above him. He wanted to reach down, grab his dick and just end it. He wanted Atlas...and it had been so long since he had wanted anyone. "Atlas, Atlas,  _Atlas!_ "  
  
There was a low groan from the radio and Jack could faintly hear a slapping sound. Atlas was jerking off to him calling his name.  _God_ , he wished the older man was here, wished that Ryan hadn't separated them. Jack couldn't help himself and he tugged his cock out of the silk panties, gripping the weeping head in his hand. He gave himself a few short strokes and Atlas moaned his appreciation. "Such a fat, big ol' cock, Jackie...all fer me?"  
  
Jack nodded his head dumbly, staring at the camera. "Just you..." he panted, shivering as he saw the camera's lens focus and zoom in closer at Atlas' command. The Irishman chuckled and the slapping sound increased, Atlas falling silent save for the heavy pants between the radio's crackle. Jack moaned, letting his dick brush against the metal, smearing precum against the smooth surface. His balls twitched and Jack freed them too from their silky confines.   
  
He imagined the hand touching him was smaller, but just as calloused from gutting fish and being a working man for so long. He imagined that husky Irish accent tickling his ear as the older man stroked, encouraging and telling him to just cum. His hand became slick with precum and Jack pressed his forehead to the pole, gritting his teeth as orgasm made his balls tighten. His stomach clenched and his back arched, his entire body twitching violently as he came and cum splattered against the pole, sliding down it to the floor. His legs shook underneath him and Jack heard Atlas groaning with his own release.   
  
Slowly, he brought his eyes to meet the camera, panting hard as his dick softened in his hand, falling onto the now stained red silk. There was silence between the two for a moment as they panted, the heat of their arousal slowly dying down. Finally, the radio crackled back to life and Atlas chuckled. Jack found himself smiling as well and he shook his head.   
  
"You better have a good reward for me when we're finished with this...keep to your promise," he said, his voice slightly shaky. He could almost hear Atlas smiling.  
  
"Oh don' worry, boyo...you'll definitely be rewarded fer all your hard work."


End file.
